static

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  • Confusion

    static

    there is nothing but static in my head
    the lonely requiem for all that you said
    i chase after you still, in my weakest of dreams
    you were the lover hiding under my bed
    i tended to your screams

    you conjured me up from the depths of the floor
    til i found myself bleeding outside your door
    i hear you inside, laughing, while my tameless lips parch
    the world becomes an open sore
    and i align with the broken-hearted march

    until i awake in grevious convulsion
    yester-years victim of your lurid divulsion
    no one but the moon to accept my bitter kiss
    the only witness you my souls avulsion
    can you tell my why it came to this

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    tidekeeper’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    you or a butterfly wind 1
    nectar 0
    ghosts 0
    hum 1
    hazy morning 0
    devour 1
    static 0
    broken 0